Deliverance
by SweetTale4u
Summary: Post War. EWE. Some HG/RW, HG/SS and HG/LM. What happens when two people share a moment. Can they build on this? Can it be a promise of salvation? ONE SHOT. Mature Readers only.


She was tired.

Tired of the incessant whining, complaining about everything and nothing. It had been ten long years at his side and she could not think she could tolerate another minute let alone a lifetime of this. Whatever had given her the idea that this could work was definitely wrong.

In the beginning it had been all about young love. Emotion and tragedy can drive two people together, especially two that had no business being together. After the fog had cleared, a few years had gone by and she was stuck. She feels bad for admitting that when the mediwitch said he was sterile, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not for him of course, she knew he wanted a family but for her, who wanted nothing more than to be off doing anything else except starting a family.

Ronald wanted a family; he wanted a replacement for Molly, someone to cook, clean and nag incessantly. Hermione wanted a wizard. She wanted to be seduced and desired, she wanted to be fucked up against the wall, all teeth and tongues, sweat and blood, she needed that fire, all she had was lukewarm apathy.

She longed for the excitement of the war. Was she a terrible person for wishing she was back in that forest? That she was back in the manor?

Fighting off curses, staring down Bellatrix and the Malfoy clan.

_Especially, Malfoy Senior. _

Those steely grey eyes seemed to haunt her dreams. Even now, all these years later she found she could not escape their gaze. His haughty derision the first time she gazed upon his regal face. She was nothing to him then, she imagined she was nothing to him now.

He was her own dirty little secret.

As she showered she found her fingers pumping deep inside her cunt, writhing against the cold tile, her fingers plucking her taut nipples whispering his name, begging him to take her, to take her away from the mundane boredom that had become her life. It was his name on her lips as she exploded; it was his eyes that she saw when she closed hers.

She knew that Ronald was unfaithful. It had not taken long after the war ended and they were together for a few years for her to see the changes in his behavior. At this point she didn't even know why they stayed together. He went his way, traveling with the Aurors for missions in far off places; she was stuck in a research job that offered nothing but an endless sea of books and notes.

She couldn't stand to look at another book.

She wanted the excitement in the books. She wanted the tales of adventure and romance, seduction and desire. Whoever thought she would be happy just sitting and reading all night did not know her. She didn't go off adventuring with Harry out of just loyalty, she went because she wanted the thrill, she needed the rush of adrenaline, and she had needs no book could fulfill. She blamed Professor Snape, Severus for awakening that hidden need. In her sixth year she had given herself to him, repeatedly he would take her, against the stone walls of the castle, his death eater robes rubbing against her skin. It was all she could do to make his life bearable in the months before he would do the unspeakable. She knew of his plans, Dumbledore had told her when he invaded her mind and saw her schoolgirl desire for the dark man growing more as the days went on. Dumbledore being the master manipulator that he was positioned Hermione directly in Severus' way, offering her up ripe for the picking.

She had mourned his death like no other; she sought the warmth of the comfortable in Ronald's arms. Little did he know he could never please her, he could never even come close to the level of desire she felt every time Severus ravaged her body, his strong hands on her skin, his cock plunging deep in her very soul, his teeth biting into her skin, his tongue easing the sting. The dark of his eyes never giving away what she knew, that he would never truly love her, but then again she would never truly love him like he needed to be loved. She did love him but he needed more than she could give his broken soul. She was a child still in the sense of the word. No matter her maturity and her use of the time turner, she couldn't be the woman that he needed. A few years maybe and she could have tried to, but alas fate would have other plans for them both. He needed a mother, someone to ease the pain of scars long ago; he was a broken man that had his destiny carved in stone long before she was even born. The balm of her body was all she could offer and she would take from him what she needed most. To be wanted, to be desired, and make no mistake he did desire her.

'_Hermione…'_

'_Severus' she gasped as he plunged into her. His thrusts came hard and desperate. His teeth marking her neck, as if marking his territory for future reference. He had been on the run so long, he needed to find her, to make her his again. It had been too long, his body had grown needy of the young witch. _

'_Why witch? Why do you let me?' he asked even as his fingers grasped her arse harder to him, his thrusts never faltering. _

"_B-because you need it, because I want it. I am yours in the only way I know how to be." She moaned into his mouth as he plunged his tongue into her willing mouth, his tongue dueled with hers and she swallowed his moans of despair and desire. _

"_Silly witch…" he thrust again harder this time, he ripped the thin material covering her breast and proceeded to devour her breast, his teeth nipping her nipple. _

"_Silly man, fuck me." _

_And he did, there in the light of the moon, on the edge of the forest, against an old tree; he made her cry out to the moon as if a beast was being torn from her very body. Little did he know it, but it had been. He had released in her a dark desire no other man would come close to matching. She knew then he would not survive the final battle. Their goodbye was very much like their hellos full of passion and desperation. _

She still missed him.

She also missed the cool steel eyes of her captor.

He was a broken man. A shell of the regal pureblood he had once been. Lucius' disheveled appearance did nothing to dampen the heat she felt in his eyes when he looked at her. She wondered if Severus had told her about them. If he had somehow read her thoughts and seen the many times she had begged Severus to leave his death eater robes on. The times she had taken him in his classroom, riding his cock at his desk, the ink of the student essays staining her backside. There was no way of knowing, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to dip into her mind and see the images of what she wanted him to do to her, the image of her straddling the aristocratic blond wizard, riding his cock hard as he slapped her arse and whispered depravities in her ear.

The small smirk on his face let her see that he in fact had taken a peek inside her mind and he wasn't repulsed but intrigued. _So much for hating mudbloods, huh Malfoy_? she thought to herself, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

As he led her away from the parlor where she had been interrogated, he pressed her slightly against the wall as he fumbled with the key to the cellar door. She gasped and moved her leg slowly, opening just a bit so that his leg fit snuggly between her thighs. His sharp intake of breath was all she needed. Her arousal was too much and she shamelessly rubbed herself against him. He pushed harder at her, his leg moving just enough to assure she got what she needed. He didn't look at her, he simply allowed her hand to reach down and rub him through his trousers. The desperation of the moment, the illicitness of the act had them climaxing hard and fast. Their breaths came hard and fast, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder and let out a long sigh. She took that moment to gently caress the long blond locks that although dirty were still beautiful to her. His breath shuddered under her gentle touch and she feared she may have seen the last vestiges of his past self-float from the corridor.

Without another word he opened the door and pushed her towards the other captives, never once meeting her gaze. The shade of pink on his dirty cheeks did not go without notice and she smirked at her recklessness. These were desperate times and she feared she would go the way of many others before her, dead in a field, the grimace of death frozen upon her face.

Even that one time, his knee at the crux of her sex had given her more pleasure than all the times with Ronald.

After the war Malfoy had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban. His wife had left him and no one had seen or heard of her since. She had merely dissolved their marriage by way of a solicitor and took off to places unknown. Soon his parole would be up and he wished nothing more than to escape the walls of this dank prison.

The only thing keeping him sane through all these years was the thought of the curly haired girl that had imprinted herself on his very soul that one day in the manor. Their correspondence had made it even stronger, his need to possess her, to own her. She had given him a brief glimpse of hope. He had never given her much thought before then. The fact that she had been Severus' had raised his curiosity. Severus had been so committed to the long dead Evans girl that he couldn't imagine that he would allow any other woman to enter his thoughts let alone his bed. Had the boy that lived even known how close he was to being Severus' son I am sure everything would have been different for all parties involved. One doesn't always get over their first love. Severus had been another tragic example of why you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket. His deception of the Evans girl had cost him her loyalty but not his place in her bed. She had given herself to him repeatedly before her marriage to Potter, it seems she liked to slum it and Severus was all too happy to oblige. Lucius remembers overhearing her in Diagon Alley talking about how she was gathering as much information on Severus and the Dark Lord for the Order, even if that meant allowing the disgusting git to have his way with her. She was perverting and twisting a genuine emotion on the part of his friend and Lucius would not allow it. Once Lucius permitted Severus to see the memory, Severus' allegiance was solidified and he reported the prophecy he had heard to the Dark Lord all but assuring her untimely death. He was repentant afterwards of course, but not for the reasons that many imagine. He was sorry that he had allowed her to use him, to play with his emotions the way no one had ever dared. Evans had known how broken Severus was and at the insistence of Dumbledore and even Potter Senior she put her plan into place.

It took many years and a stint in Azkaban for Severus to see the error of his ways. He had been indoctrinated by the best, namely Lucius, so it took a while to shake off the belief they could rule the world. Once he had he willingly worked with the Order to bring down the Dark Lord. Too bad Severus failed to mention it to Lucius, allowing him to once again don the robes and kneel at the foot of a deranged madman for the greater evil.

Lucius on the other hand saw the error of his ways in the eyes of his son. The torment that plagued his only child broke his heart. His wife saw no problem in it. She merely wanted to assure her son would not rot in Azkaban. It would look bad for the family if Draco killed Dumbledore and they lost the war so she manipulated an unbreakable vow from Severus and sat back to watch the results play out before her. Her sister may have been as mad as a hatter, but Narcissa was the darkest of the Black sisters. He was glad that she had left him, allowed him to keep all his fortune and just disappeared.

It was a little too late in the eyes of the law and Lucius along with a few other Death Eaters were sentenced to prison. Lucius saw it as a stroke of luck, especially when others were given death sentences in the guise of kisses at the mouths of the Dementors. His money still bought him a little favor, although not much and he was allowed to read and receive post. It was shortly after his incarceration that he had received his first letter.

_L, _

_I am glad you did not get the kiss. _

_H_

The paper was enchanted to allow him to send the letter to her without the guards knowing to who it was being sent. The paper would look like an innocuous letter to a distant relative or an inquiry about a journal article.

_H, _

_I was overjoyed as well. Tell me witch, what are you wearing?_

_L_

He knew he was taking a chance by opening up that door but he would be damned if he didn't pursue her obvious overture. Every week he received another small note, they served to keep him sane. She was just as lonely as he was and that eased his hurt a bit. They discussed the loss of a friend; her notes confirmed his suspicions of her relationship with Severus. He assured her that Severus had in fact cared very much for the wild haired witch. It gave her closure and they never spoke about him again. From then their messages took another form. They allowed their desires to fill the small slips of paper, their unfulfilled dreams to take life on parchment, even if not in real life gave them a brief glimpse of happiness. They spoke of plans for the future, how life would be if things had been different. They shared their darkest desires and their wildest dreams knowing that the other was listening and wanting the same, albeit on paper. There was something especially naughty about the illicit notes that fueled his dark nature. He knew she would not share the fact she was writing to him and the secrecy made his cock hard, he was her secret. Lucius had never been a happy man. His marriage was arranged and served only one purpose, to produce an heir. His family had been cold and unfeeling for most it not all of his life. He sometimes envied Severus, at least his father cared enough about him to beat him, he never so much as got a second look from his father unless it was to remind him that he was a Malfoy and he was expected to behave a certain way. He remembered the fire in the small witch's eyes when she had stood up to him in the bookstore in her second year, her voice hadn't even wavered and he had been taken aback by her bravado. Oh what he would have done to have had a witch with her passion at his side, he felt the world would have knelt to them both. It was this passion and thrill that had given him strength that day at the manor. Her hand caressing his engorged cock, his thigh moist with the heat between her legs drove him to a pleasure he hadn't felt before. Never had he felt this release, the kind that comes from desperation and wonder, the desperate need of a beaten man. The thoughts alone made his cock ache, an ache to find port in her body. To see what a few years had done to her body, to admire and caress the curves of a woman and to bury his face between those thighs and drink from the panacea only she could offer. He was a depraved old man but he didn't care, he would have her. The walls of this place would only hold him so long, soon he would be out and she would be his. That day at the manor she had broken him, and he would only be whole with her again. As he pulled his cock from his prison issued trousers he pumped his fist hard and fast, the memory of that shared moment so long ago, of the written words of promise and pleasure. The image of her eyes and hair the last thing he saw before he spilled his release onto his stomach and fist.

For years she had written him, small notes to keep his morale up. She wanted to test the waters, to see if he had felt what she did that day at the manor. She wanted to keep his will strong, to keep him alive. It was the least she could do. She knew they had shared a moment but it had meant a lot more to them than it had to anyone else that might have witnessed it. She knew her words sparked a fire in him and as she read his words, the detailed things he would do to her, she let his words guide her hands repeatedly as she pleasured herself, always seeing his eyes as she screamed his name in the darkness of her mind.

She was wrong, it was wrong. It all was. She didn't know why she stayed in the relationship she was in. She knew why she had sought out Ron after the war, it was because it was expected and safe but now she couldn't stand it anymore. He had been there for her as she had been there for him. She eased his heartache at losing his brother and he unknowingly held her hand as she mourned the loss of her first lover. Luckily she had not married Ronald, she had merely moved in with him and Harry at headquarters. They were barely there and when they were it was one party after another, one fight after another, one whispered apology before he left in the morning the smell of another witch on his robes, sometimes the smell of cologne as well. It had been almost a year since she had allowed Ron to touch her; she was ashamed it was after she had received a note from Lucius that she allowed Ron to pleasure her as best he could. It was a sad pathetic excuse for a fuck but she needed the release. Blond hair replaced red, grey took the place of brown and she let her childhood friend usurp the place of the wizard she so desperately wanted.

It was to be no more. The next morning she left Grimmauld place and rented a flat in London. She needed to get away from all she knew. She left Ron a note, she wondered if he would even be bothered, let alone come after her. As for anyone else, she had long since given up on the pretense of their friendships. They had all evolved into their own people, full of their own problems and insecurities. They were all damaged from years of the war. She wasn't even surprised when she received news that some of her classmates had turned to illegal potions or even suicide as a result of the post war trauma. Muggles called it post-traumatic stress disorder, she wondered if that is what she had, but then shook it off. No use diagnosing something she was in no hurry to lose. The only thing wrong with her is that her wizard was stuck in a jail cell.

She needed patience.

He kept his body strong.

She kept his mind sharp and his wit in check.

Every morning it was the same routine. Pushups, sit ups and pull ups until he felt he would empty his stomach of the little he consumed. At night he would find release at his own hand, images of her floating through his mind, reminders of what awaited him should he chose to allow it. He needed to stay alert, just because he was in Azkaban did not mean he was safe. The guards were just as quick with a beating as the prisoners. Robbed of their wands and dignity they often resorted to try and take down the weakest among them, revert to animals.

Lucius would not let anyone taint him. Would not allow anyone to place their hands on him, he belonged to her. The unspoken promise of her words kept him alive.

_L, _

_You are a warrior, a god among mere morals. _

_Stay strong. _

_Yours always,_

_H_

Some of his former cohorts had tried to kill him early on during his stint in the prison. They had managed to corner him in the showers. Lucius could still feel the hold blade cut through the skin on his back. Wet and naked he fought, he fought with his entire being, knowing if he failed he would never gaze upon her sweet lips again, never feel the caress of her hand on his head, the unconditional acceptance only she could offer. Lucius managed to snap one of their necks and a few arms before the others fled leaving him bleeding out naked and on the floor of the dirty shower. The last images he saw were of his blood swirling into the drain.

She hired an attorney when she found out what had happened and the attorney had petitioned the court to start an investigation and to also assure added security for Lucius. The investigation showed that the guards on duty that day were paid off by an unknown benefactor who had interests in Malfoy Industries failing and wanted it to look like a random prison attack. Seems the former death eaters had no qualms about taking the money so long as they had a shot at their former friend. While the attacks had lessened, the threat was always there. Every man had a price and Lucius feared that if he didn't get out soon there would be a price on his head too high that even the most honest of men would be tempted to take.

_H, _

_I fear that if I do not get out of this place soon, the madness creeping around each corner will devour me whole. The only part of me it will not have will be the part I have given to you. _

_L_

Those words had been the catalyst to her changing her life. No longer content with merely existing, she wanted to begin living. She had been sleepwalking through life. Her relationship with Ron, her friendships, her work and life had all been stagnant as if stuck in hot molasses. She needed to break free and so she did. Soon he would be out and she would go to him. She would be there. She didn't care that they had not made promises to each other. She didn't even care if he knew it was her or not, she needed to see him. She wanted to be there for him, to allow him to use her body, to find the release they both desperately needed.

He smoothed out the robes they had given him. His hair had finally grown back after being shaved twice since his incarceration. It was hopeless to imagine he could look anything like he had when he had been bought in. While he had maintained his strength by exercising to the point of exhaustion, the toll of the dank prison had affected his entire being. He had lost about two stone and was lean in his constitution. The officials from the prison meandered in at the leisure, Lucius mentally counted down the minutes, the seconds until he could breathe air free of the smell of decay and feces.

Once all the preliminaries were completed, he was free to go. No stipulations, no conditions, he was a free man. It took him a moment to square his shoulders and walk through the front doors. He wondered for one fleeting moment if she would be there. As he looked out of the doors, onto the raging sea surrounding the prison, he saw a hooded figure in billowing black robes. He thought momentarily of the storied reaper and if he had finally come to claim him in the greatest irony of his life. That was until he saw the figure lower the hood, the wind whipped her chestnut curls around her face, but he knew instantly it was her. He could not make his feet move faster, he feared she was merely an apparition and if he moved to fast she would vanish as she had in his waking dreams all these years.

When he finally reached her, he could not move the foot needed to reach her. He fell to his knees and buried his face in her robes, her arms holding him close, her hand caressing his head as she had so many years ago. He trembled with fear, with longing with hunger, the ache was fierce and the tears came unbridled from his eyes. He cried for his childhood, for the love his parents never gave him, for the young boy who grew up ignorant and unawares. He cried for his friend, his dear friend Severus who had sacrificed his life to save his son, he cried for his son, for the hurt he had caused him. He feared he would never make it up to him but he would die trying to. The sobs racked his soul and he saw no end in sight.

"Shhh it's okay, let it all go." Her words were whispered, spoken only for his ears. She petted his hair and held him close. He felt renewed; invigorated with her strength he stood and looked down at her small face. Her eyes determined and gleaming with unshed tears. She had been strong; this moment was about him, not her. She raised her hand to touch his wet cheek. The only other sound besides their breathing was the crashing of the waves around them and of the wind. There was a storm coming.

"Time to go home," and with that she pulled a portkey from her robes and took them away.

They landed at her flat. She had made it as comfortable as she could for him. She had made sure that he had a change of clothes and there was food ready for him to eat. She was not sure whether he would want to see her or even if he would finally be released but she remained hopeful and now he was here. He looked awkward standing amongst her muggle furnishings and meager belongings, but he looked over to her and breathed a sigh of relief.

There was no need to speak, she removed his robes and took him into the bathroom. She glanced at his body, strong but thin she would be sure to pay extra attention to the scars that littered his form. She ran the tub and while he lowered himself in she stood back and began to disrobe. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened slightly as she exposed her breasts first then her smooth mound and legs. She lowered herself into the tub behind him and began to wash him. His hair was long but shorter than she was used to seeing, she washed it first. The water cascading down his strong back muscles had her moist at her core. She was sure he could feel it as he leaned back closer to her pulling her legs tighter around him. His hands rubbed her legs lazily in no particular pattern while she washed his back and chest. She motioned to him to stand before her and as he did, his form rising from the water was that of a God. The water rippled from his body, his cock erect jutting out, seeking her warmth. She looked up at him briefly as his breaths came faster and harder at the sight before him. As she washed his legs and feet she gently nudged his cock with her face. She smoothed her cheek over the hot shaft causing him to hold his breath as if waiting. When she rinsed the suds from his body she rose and let her tongue trail languidly up the underside of his hard shaft. His hand came to her head and he tangled his fingers in her curls pulling her closer to him. She practically gushed at the feel of his need. He pulled her head back and she looked up at him.

"Do it." He growled.

Without removing his hands from her nest of hair she lowered her mouth and with a small puff of breath on his engorged head she took him into her mouth. That alone had his balls pulling in, chasing the release he so desperately needed. It would not take long but she didn't need it to, this was about him. She sucked long and hard, using her hand to take the place of her mouth when she pulled away. The drops of moisture at his tip tasted of unfettered release and soon he was thrusting in time with her down stroke filling her mouth with his shaft. Pulling away momentarily she glanced up and spoke "Just let go."

And he did, he trembled and released and released moaning her name, whispering his thanks, basking in her devotion. She took him all, swallowing his pain, his frustration, his lust and his need. He pulled her up roughly by her arms he held her close, just looking into her eyes.

"Why witch, why me?"

Still stroking his shaft with her hand, even as he held her close, she thought about his question. Remembering when a dark wizard had once asked her something similar. This time the answer was different.

"Because I need it and you want it. There can be no one else for me. I need the darkness you harbor, the one deep inside, I crave your will, I need your power. It completes me, it makes me feel alive." There was no wavering in her voice, she was as brave as that day in the book shop. His voice caught in his throat.

"You will be my witch; no other will ever have you."

"That is all I have ever wanted."

Wrapping her legs around his waist he carried her to her bedroom. It had been prepared for their arrival. The duvet had been pulled back and the jasmine scented sheets were intoxicating. They reminded him of a summer breeze, a moment long ago in a corridor. In the darkness of the moment there had been her caress, her scent. It had kept him alive in the darkest of moments. He feared she would slip from his fingers even now like sand, a living mirage. He laid her on the bed and looked down at her. Her rosy flesh was heated from the bath and the hills and valleys of her landscape were all laid bare for his judgment. She was perfect. He dipped his head and whispered "I cannot be gentle. It isn't what you want, it isn't what you need."

"No. Take me as you wish."

He let his mouth draw a map upon her skin, his tongue leaving trails for further reference and his mouth feasting on the downy flesh. His hands grasped her breasts hard and he nipped at her taut nipples, taking them into his mouth, making her gasp and writhe against his leg. Her hands in his hair pulling him closer, her back arching to press herself harder to him, silently begging him for more.

"I want to hear you witch, tell me what you want."

"Your m-mouth…"

She was quivering with need. All the months and years of waiting were too much. She needed him, he needed to punish her, to make her his, he was her release. The darkness in him called to her, her darkness called to his, they needed each other and now as his mouth descended upon her mound she screamed out her release. He drank from her, his tongue punishing her clit, his mouth taking all she had to offer. He didn't release her until she had climaxed twice begging him to finish her, to make her feel.

"I will bind you to me witch, why Severus never did is beyond me, but I will not miss the opportunity."

"Do not speak of him Lucius, he was my past and he will always have a place in my heart as he did in yours, we will share that memory and share our hearts as a whole. You will have mine as I will have yours, it is the only way."

He called his wand to him and spoke the incantation slicing through his palm and hers as he pressed his hand to hers over her head he plunged into her waiting cunt. The power of his thrust into her was too much and she came again, screaming his name as the magic of the bond took them over. Energy crackled as the magic within them swirled around their heated bodies. He pumped harder and faster, determined to mark her with his body, his blood and his seed. His cock declaring what his mouth was unable to, that she belonged to him and he would fuck the memory of Weasley and even of their friend Severus from her mind, there could be no other wizard for her. Sweat began to fall from his brow as her inner muscles squeezed around him pulling from him a deep growl of pleasure. She was ravenous, shouting at him to fuck her hard, faster. Pulling his hands from hers he pulled her hips off the bed and pumped harder, the blood on hand staining her heated skin. He leaned over and licked it off, she moaned in pleasure at the sight and the witch cursed him to move, to love her more. With each thrust into her body the magic grew stronger, the light was blinding and the tension in him began to build.

He rolled over to his back and she straddled him, sinking down onto his waiting cock was all the motivation she needed to move. She began to ride him hard, their hands connected again, they felt the bond grow stronger, she could feel his blood inside her, feel the Malfoy pride, the Malfoy prejudice and she reveled in it.

He could feel her inside of him; he could feel her bravado, her intelligence, her passion. She was filling his senses. Never had he felt so full, so completely sated. She moved in rhythm with their joined heartbeats and he sat up to kiss her, her mouth hot and waiting, her tongue cleansing his sins. She fucked him harder, never stopping her rhythm, she was insatiable and he had never felt so alive. He pulled her hair exposing her neck to lick and bite. He sunk his teeth into her skin while pulling her down harder onto his shaft and that pushed her over. She shuddered around him; the power of her orgasm pulled his release from the depths of their joined souls. He filled her and she felt complete. They held each other for what felt like hours. Their bond was strong.

When he finally looked at her she smiled at him. A true smile, no one had ever smiled at him like that. It was a smile full of promise and trust.

"It is done witch, you are mine."

"And you are mine."

There was no need to declare love. The bond said it all, it was all they needed. From that day forward they were unstoppable.


End file.
